He Has An MO
by daughterofthemyscira
Summary: When Wayne Industries considers doing business with the drill-making company Grunnings, Bruce is forced to go to the Dursley household. From the second he sees the neighborhood, he is sure he won't like them. He's even more sure when he actually meets the family.


**Pairings: Bruce Wayne & Harry Potter **

**Characters: Harry Potter, Bruce Wayne, Vernon Dursley, Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley**

 **Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern, Messed-Up Timelines, Adoption Fic, Mentions of Child Abuse, Bruce Adopts Harry, Crossover, ok but harry's a dark-haired kid with a jacked family situation, tell me bruce wouldn't adopt him in a heartbeat, Pre-Hogwarts**

 **Summary: When Wayne Industries considers doing business with the drill-making company Grunnings, Bruce is forced to go to the Dursley household. From the second he sees the neighborhood, he is sure he won't like them. He's even more sure when he actually meets the family.**

 **They're conservative and bigoted, with a spoiled son and a house that's too clean. But he knows he could never work with them when he hears a muffled sound from under the stairs. He glances into the door and sees a tiny boy curled up and sobbing.**

 **Now he just has to convince the Dursleys to give him the boy - the one they obviously don't care about - without brutally maiming them.**

 **Notes: ok, so this fic has a monumentally jacked-up timeline for hp. in it, harry was born in the year 1997, not 1980. the beginning of the story is set in march 2007. sorry ¯\\_(** **ツ** **)_/¯**

 **also i know nothing about business.**

 **this is a prequel! hopefully there will be more soon :)**

* * *

 _Bruce_

Bruce's limousine had just entered the street where his potential business associate lived and already he was apprehensive. Every house looked exactly the same, with identical lawns and similar cars. Bruce promoted ingenuity and creativity in his business, when he was running WE and not putting on his _'playboy'_ facade, parenting, or protecting the streets of Gotham, and he was unsure if he wanted to do business with a man who saw nothing wrong with living in a cookie-cutter neighborhood.

Hopefully the man and his family would be better than he was already imagining.

His chauffeur parked in front of a house that was uniform with the rest, a boring business car parked in the driveway. Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, before resolving not to say anything and getting out of the limo.

His chauffeur nodded gravely at him before driving away; he was to return twenty after nine, unless Bruce texted him otherwise.

Squaring his shoulders, Bruce walked up to the door and briskly knocked. There was no way this could be as bad as he feared.

.

.

.

It was worse.

Vernon Dursley, the man he was supposed to get to know, had a constant mean expression on his face. One that practically declared he was simply a greedy bastard that wanted the prestige of hooking Wayne Enterprise to Grunnings. His wife had a cold smile, sharp blue eyes, and the mannerisms of a shrew. And their son was even worse. An obese little boy with piggy eyes and a cruel smile, he had thrown a tantrum within ten minutes of Bruce being there.

Halfway through the dinner, earlier to be honest, Bruce knew he would not be making the deal they were hoping for, so he decided to excuse himself for the bathroom so he could text his driver. He paused when he heard an odd sound as he passed by the stairs. It sounded like a child sobbing, reminding him of Dick at night, but that was impossible.

But when he caught sight of a door for a cupboard where the sound was loudest, his detective instincts kicked in, and he said opened the door. It was dark, but Bruce was used to the dark and his eyes adjusted quickly. As soon as they did, he froze.

It was a... _bedroom._ There was a tiny boy, even smaller than Dick, curled up into a ball and sobbing into his knees. Bruce swallowed past the knot in his throat and kneeled down so he could be down at the kid's level.

"Hello," he said hesitantly.

The kid's head shot up and he looked at Bruce with wide, tear-filled green eyes. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"I'm Bruce Wayne, I - "

" - you can't be here!" the boy exclaimed lowly, terror twisting his young features. "My uncle will be so angry if he catches you here!"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "What would your uncle do if he got angry?"

The kid only shook his head and buried his head back in his bony knees. Bruce took a deep breath and shook his head. The Dursleys were obviously abusing this child and if there was something Bruce refused to stand for, it was abuse. In any sense of the word. He stood up, resolute.

He would not be leaving without this child.

With a clenched jaw and narrow eyes, Bruce headed back to the dining room. The Dursley family was all sitting around the table, the boy devouring his plateful (which Bruce was certain was at least his third) while Mrs. Dursley sat primly, a simpering smile twisting his thin pink lips.

"I'm leaving," Bruce said, his teeth gritted. He knew his tone was extraordinarily harsh.

Dursley sat up, alarmed. His jowls were wiggling wildly and his eyes looked shifty. "Why is that, Bruce?" he asked.

Bruce sneered at him. "Does the crying child under your stairs ring a bell?"

Dursley's eyes widened and he froze for a second before his entire face turned a violent shade of red. "The freak deserves it!" he spit.

Bruce couldn't stop the growl that escaped from his throat at the words then, his nostrils flaring, growled, "I'd shut up right now if I was you."

The wife was looking up at him with fearful, but defiant, flat blue eyes. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked. "He's _my_ nephew."

His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists. "I will be taking the boy with me."

"Ha!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes and jerking her head, as if to flip her hair. "Do you really think we haven't tried? He's a freak, just like my whore of a sister and her foreigner husband. But they keep sending him back."

"I am the eighth richest man in the world," Bruce said flatly, working to control his anger. His relatively new instincts and reactions were begging him to fight these _monsters_ the same way he did the villains back home, but he refused. He'd obtain the child the...somewhat civil way. "I'm sure I can handle anything anyone throws at me."

The wife arched her thin blonde eyebrows. "Fine, take him," she said, flapping her hand. "See if any of us care. He'll be back in a week anyway."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I'm sure," he said. "Just know, if that happens I'll be releasing the information I got today about how you treat the child to the print. Let's see how your reputation survives _that."_

Both of the parents froze. Their boy had a look of intense concentration on his round face as he gripped his fork. He looked confused.

"Fine!" Vernon snapped.

Bruce smiled thinly at him, before turning around and heading back to the door.

The boy would be out of this house in the hour of it was up to him.

.

.

.

It took twenty minutes to get him (it turned out his name was Harry Potter) and his belongings in the car, and seventeen of those minutes were used to calm him down.

Bruce wasn't positive about all the ways the Dursleys abused Harry (though one answer could be "too many"), but it was obvious negligence and verbal were the main types. Harry was far too small for his age, obviously malnourished, and their was a constant glimmer of exhausted fear in his teary eyes.

Bruce could only hope that getting him away from the Dursleys and making his life better from this point on would help him.

* * *

 **Notes: i had to re-upload this because of some formatting errors, but i hope you all enjoy!**


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